Magnolia
by Yggdra
Summary: I've known the legends ever since I was a kid: about the Ylisse of old, about Exalt Chrom and the war he'd waged against the Fell Dragon, Grima. But of the identity of the tactician who had helped make this future—my future—possible? That I didn't know. At least, not until I was somehow sent back in time. My name is Robin, and apparently, I'm that tactician.
1. The Stalker

**Welcome, one and all, to a new story I've created.** Basically, what we have right here is the result of one madly hopping plot bunny from reading one too many one-shots. In short, if the summary hasn't been clear enough, AU!Robin gets transported into the Awakening timeline and her life just basically did a one-eighty. Now, _I'm_ not sure how well I did this chapter. It's just a fun little diversion of mine. But if you want to read on anyway, please do!

That's all, and I hope you all enjoy.

* * *

 **Chapter One**

The Stalker

* * *

The shiny-looking trinkets displayed behind the large glass panel caught my eye and, after a moment of consideration, I nodded to myself and stepped into the souvenir shop. At the sound of ringing door chimes, the shopkeeper slouching behind the counter straightened up. I gave a casual wave in response, smiled politely, and turned away to check out the collection of snow globes on the leftmost shelf.

But while I had all the appearances of a tourist fresh from the deserts of Plegia, I wasn't here to look for souvenirs.

I, Robin, was trying to get a better look at the creep who's been tailing me for a while now.

That was the reason why I chose this spot. The angle was right enough that I got a good glimpse of Ylisstol's busy streets outside, and the shelves covered me enough that the only thing anyone would see—in the dim lighting and if they looked hard enough—was my white-blonde hair. Maybe my red hoodie, too, but since the shelves were a reddish-brown color, it wasn't as noticeable.

If this issue got really bad enough that I'll want to report this guy to the local police, I needed more details. Facial structure, height, body figure, and more. And I needed him to _keep_ not noticing that I've long noticed him. I did just spend a good portion of the afternoon looking for a shop with a large window like this one.

…What was up with Ylisstol and its hatred for window-shoppers, anyway? Geez.

As the seconds ticked by and I started waiting there, I thought it wasn't funny how an ordinary morning turned into a pretty bad afternoon. I never suspected anything like this would happen after I started the day with barely enough sleep the previous night. All I thought of was what I planned to do in the afternoon when I ate my breakfast in what the locals say was _the_ best bakery in town. And when I went sightseeing before I returned to my apartment to work on my thesis, I thought today was pretty 'meh' in general. I'd say things were almost clockwork.

But by the time the sun was almost midway up, that was when things started getting weirder and weirder.

I didn't notice the guy at first. See, I'd decided to visit the central park where I could find a fancy-looking bench to sit my butt on after having done a lot of walking earlier. The magnificent statue of Naga caught my attention, standing right there in the middle of a huge, circular fountain surrounded by lush green grass and a few oak trees, and I decided to amble towards it to get a good look first.

Thinking back on it now, I probably shouldn't have done that. If I didn't decide to pull out my camera for future scrapbook ideas revolving the beautifully sculpted statue, the sight wouldn't have to feel ruined when I realized someone was staring at me. You know that strange kind of pressure you'd feel weighing you down from behind? That had been what I felt.

But by the time turned around, the last thing I caught was a slight movement of his head that showed he was looking away. Then he'd slipped into the nearest crowd. I'd lost sight of him, and I'd decided to dismiss him as a distraction and went on with my business.

Too bad he hadn't been just a distraction. Many glimpses of him at different places told me otherwise. And after deciding I'd had enough, here I was now.

I brought my mind back to the present, done with that flashback I wish I didn't have. I mentally counted the seconds. At the same time, I pretended to be incredibly interested in one of the snow globes that had a surprisingly accurate model of Castle Ylisstol from two millenniums. That also got me trying to reign in my history-loving side for all things ancient Ylisse. _Keep it together, Robin, no time for that now._

Five seconds passed, ten, fifteen—

Target spotted.

I bent my legs and ducked lower, just to be on the safe side. I gripped the edge of the shelf for balance so I didn't fall on my backside. It wobbled under my touch and threatened to slide all snow globes down into a nasty avalanche—but it stilled. Whew. Thank goodness. I knocked softly on its wooden surface in chastisement for scaring me.

Anyway, there he was, his white hair and his brown coat the only things I'd recognized from before. Damn, he _still_ wasn't close enough for me to determine what his eye color was or what other features were distinguishable on his face. The fact that he then turned his back against me just made things a little harder. Still, I persisted on looking at him. I had to deal with this or forever be pestered.

I watched how he bowed his head down to awkwardly check the time on his wristwatch, watched him make an effort to appear nonchalant as numerous shoppers and locals passed by him. Judging from the odd looks sent his way, he was failing. Hard. He didn't seem to care. Or, he was forcing himself not to care. The way he seemed to pull his coat tighter around himself said otherwise.

Funny. For a moment there, I had the impression that he totally didn't belong there. But that strange thought was replaced by the realization that, one: he was a stalker; and two: I shouldn't start empathizing just because I was an outsider like him.

"Seen anything you like, miss?"

My line of thought was snapped apart the moment a guy's voice registered in my mind. It felt pretty sudden, like poof! He was there. But I didn't jump in surprise or anything. Didn't scream, didn't accidentally send a snow globe flying so I could end up responsible for the destruction of Castle Ylisstol. Or actually topple several shelves and be neck-deep in debt for repair payments. And hospital fees.

No wonder my friends back home thought I was no fun with surprises. Especially birthday parties.

Oh, sure, make no mistake, my position was very compromised. But I didn't scowl at the apparently short, red-haired shopkeeper standing beside me either. I plastered on a calm smile and straightened up, patting my hands on my hoodie to get rid of some dust that stuck to it. I also might have given the person an unintentional once over because when my brain finally acknowledged him completely, he was something I didn't expect to see.

"You look a bit young to be managing a store."

"What?" He blinked. When he realized what I meant, he furiously shook his head. "No! Gods, you're the fifth person to tell me that today. I'm _sixteen_."

I think I might have struck a nerve there. Defensive, much.

"Oh. Well. The statement stands," I said, shrugging.

I wasn't really one to backtrack the moment I said anything. Unless, of course, I was under threat of being thrown out of the shop. Or toasted by a Fire spell because two thousand years had simply made what was once offensive magic into something more of utility.

The shopkeeper wasn't improving his case by pouting like that, by the way.

"Anyway," I said before he could open his mouth. I turned slightly away from him so I could pick up a snow globe and inspect it to keep up my pretense of an interested buyer. A quick glance at the window showed the guy still standing there. Clearly, he was waiting for me and, yes, he's got the creep factor dialed up all the way to eleven. "I'm just browsing for now. Didn't think there'd be _that_ many shops in the commercial district. I'm impressed."

The boy—guy—blinked before widening his eyes in realization. "Wait. That accent. Plegian?"

"Oh, no, it's Valmese," I replied dryly. I winked at the guy to assure him that I wasn't offended. "Of course I'm Plegian."

He didn't speak at once. Catching sight of some disarranged knick-knacks on the shelf to my left, no doubt courtesy of some previous shoppers, maybe some obnoxious kids too, he approached the wooden piece of furniture and started fixing them up with the ease of one who might have had this job way past his contract.

"I see. Then what brings you here to Ylisse? Change of scenery?" He asked conversationally. I belatedly realized that some of the stuff he was rearranging were action figures from that recent movie about Exalt Chrom and his exploits during the time the Fell Dragon, Grima, threatened to destroy the world.

Before you ask, it was a bad movie. Very historically inaccurate, and the character portrayals were so terrible I wondered if the person who wrote them was high. The story in entirety also just made Grima, the Fell Dragon that _nearly destroyed the world_ , sound more fantastical and impossible to believe as having existed before. I do believe there were even people who _insisted_ Grima was nothing but a figment of a historian's imagination.

Buuut, that was me getting off-track.

"Something like that," I said, replacing the snow globe and abandoning all movie-related thoughts.

I wasn't surprised at his curiosity. When you lived in a bustling metropolis that made Ylisstol look horribly provincial in comparison (though it wasn't), people tended to wonder why you'd want to leave when you had everything you needed there. Casinos, malls, resorts, creepy landmarks (looking at you, Dragon's Table), you name it—Plegia's got it. So did Ylisstol after a nighttime stroll around the city, but at a lesser extent. Something told me Ylissean nightlife wasn't as intense as Plegia's.

I had a legit reason to be here, regardless. It wasn't some top secret mission or anything, so I easily explained it to the shopkeeper. "Actually, I'm here for my thesis."

Yes, thesis, every college student's cause of all-nighters and anxiety. Writing more than a hundred pages of a chosen topic was one thing, but defending it in front of a panel was enough to leave anyone a stuttering mess. Anyone but me, anyway, and mostly because I already knew my topic like the back of my hand.

"College student?"

"From Plegia University, yeah."

He seemed put off at that. For a moment I thought he was going to go 'blech' because Ylisse's university and Plegia's university were rivals in many different aspects, but nope. I thought wrong.

"That's not a very creative name." That was why.

"True. It's got nothing over this city's College of Naga," I admitted.

I meant to add more to that, really. But then I heard the chimes ring, nice and soothing to the ears. Naturally, I ended up glancing towards the door in curiosity. This souvenir shop wasn't a busy enough place that I could just tune out most things.

But the moment I realized who'd just entered, I nearly narrowed my eyes in annoyance. I also wanted to commend Mr. Stalker there at the same time. Not a lot of people had the balls to get dangerously closer to the person he was following.

I opted with a sigh instead. It was clear now, more than ever, that this pegasus crap needed to stop.

I didn't want to spend an entire month being paranoid and increasingly frustrated over my personal tail when I've got tons of research to do in this city. The chapters concerning the history of ancient Ylisse, the people involved, and the lost identity of Exalt Chrom's tactician—whom some refer to the Avatar or some other fancy title—weren't going to write themselves.

Hell, I _wanted_ to write those chapters. I've always had a fascination for ancient Ylisse—it's always stood out from all the developments this entire continent had been having for the past millennium.

"Welcome!" The shopkeeper grinned at the newcomer-slash-stalker before stepping back from the shelf he'd been working on, turning to the other messy shelves to perform the same task.

As I bowed my head down and inspected another snow globe, this time one of Regna Ferox's Grand Arena, I made a quick glance aside and noticed how the white-haired man gave a polite smile back. I didn't know why, but gosh darn it that calm and collected facade he had there got me feeling more annoyed. It was a kind of look leaning more on smug than anything else.

You know what, it was high time an intervention happened. _My_ intervention.

So after I swept my eyes around my surroundings, looking for an excuse for _me_ to get closer and tell him off, I spotted the colorful key chains hanging at the racks by the wall. There, right at the spot that the stalker walked past after he entered. I briefly considered buying one of those later. Something to remind me of my time here when I had to go back to Plegia.

 _Stop distracting yourself, woman, and focus on the main issue_.

I feigned interest and made my way towards that location, and I also continued pretending that I didn't know he was stalking me. I made no indication of acknowledging him further, keeping my eyes straight ahead and my breathing nice and even. Comfortable silence. And then, when I was close enough to him and confident that I could at least trip the bastard if he bolted, I stared at him and mercilessly broke that easygoing atmosphere.

I waited for him to catch my eye. He did. I shot him the most frigid, accusatory glare I could muster.

(If memory served, it was the kind of glare that made the bullies of my childhood turn into trembling sissies—they never pulled my hair ever again. It helped that I poured glue all over the top of their heads soon after. That got me a week of detention, but it was _so_ worth it.)

"You and I will be having words," I said to him, my voice low enough for only him to hear.

But to my surprise (which I didn't show, obviously) he didn't seem all that shocked that I've known all this time. His expression was as passive as ever, and his eyes had a certain spark of intelligence in them. All his reaction consisted of was a simple nod. Message received; about damn time.

I narrowed my eyes at him for good measure, and as if I hadn't just tossed around my trademark death glare, I turned away towards the blissfully unaware shopkeeper.

"You don't mind if I come back later, do you? It turns out that I really like that snow globe, but I've still got shops to check out before the day ends," I said to him with an easy smile and a hopeful look on my face. You could say that adopting facades was an acquired skill of mine. My family's to blame.

The red-haired teenager finally finished his knick-knack arrangement, nodded in satisfaction while clapping off some dust off his hands, and grinned a boyish grin at me. "Sure thing! I'm not surprised you like that one. It's a pretty darn accurate replica of the old castle up on the upper district."

"It is," I agreed, nodding fervently. "Nice of the Exalted family to turn that into a rad museum before they moved to a more private setting—I think it was that place where the old Shepherds barracks stood two thousand years ago?"

I could have sworn I heard Mr. Stalker's breath hitch at that, but I ignored him and whatever drama he was suddenly having.

"Yep. Man, you really know your history, don't you?" The shopkeeper said. "I know I got my know-how from a good friend of mine, but people like you are one of a kind."

"I take after my parents. Huge history buffs, them. You'd think people being high up on the political ladder would change things, but eh," I said, shrugging. I began stepping towards the doorway. "Anyway, I gotta go…?"

"Rick."

"Gotcha. Well, then, ciao." I gave Rick a two-fingered wave, the stalker a meaningful stare, and the door a push forward.

* * *

Once I emerged into the busy streets, I made sure to take several steps out of view of the shop. I stuffed my hands into my hoodie's pockets and leaned against the brick wall, waiting for Mr. Stalker to meet me. If he decided to cut and run, I knew what he looked like; I knew how tall he was, what clothes he wore. And best of all, I knew where the police station was located.

It only took a full minute before the white-haired guy finally stood before me, patiently waiting for me to speak. Upon closer inspection, the design of his cloak was much more elaborate and reminded me of a picture I've seen about the Avatar wearing a similar style. He stood a full foot taller than me, and was that a faint hint of guilt on his face? I confirmed that it was.

Okay, now here was the craziest part of my equally crazy plan. I took a deep breath, exhaled, and pushed myself off the wall with my hands. I turned and marched to him. I stared at him long and hard, and then I firmly grabbed his arm and pulled him with me as I began walking towards a location where I knew I could settle this.

The guy jerked back in a show of resistance at first, but a flash of a sour look from me was all it took to make him ease up and keep pace. The wiser choice was probably dragging this guy straight to the police, but somehow… I dunno.

As the tall, elegant buildings built of glass and steel passed by me as I continued taking step after step on the sidewalk, tuning out the sounds of cars and buses at the same time, it occurred to me that things would probably be easier if I recognized the guy from somewhere, maybe a bar or a nightclub. Or a library, or my college back hom.

But I didn't. He was a total stranger, a total nobody. I didn't know what I did to even _get_ his attention.

Last I checked, I was nothing but a Plegian college girl who decided to do a majority of her research here in Ylisse. Packed my bags, rode a bus, and got an apartment rented for one month in the safest part of the city. And, day and night, I did nothing but go to the Ylisse Grand Library to read books. I went to a diner for all food-related concerns, and to the commercial district to rest my brain and do some mindless window shopping. Then I'd go back home when I was ready to get writing till my eyes rolled out of their sockets.

It had been one week since my stay here—I never talked to anybody beyond business. Never made friends, just kept to myself because I had a relatively busy schedule.

And in terms of someone _needing_ something from me, I was pretty sure I had nothing to offer, either. I kept a tight budget, and the stuff I owned were as valuable as fake jewelry. But practical. Always practical.

I doubt I was being eyed for a one-night stand, either, because I looked more haggard than pretty recently with matching eye bags earned from coffee-filled all-nighters. Wouldn't stop a rapist because they didn't discriminate, probably, but they usually went after the pretty girls first.

Though just to get this established, I'd sooner cut someone's manhood off if he ever did so much as force himself on me.

Anyway. Basically, I offered nothing of interest, so I'd always go back to the question of why this guy decided I was someone he was creepily interested in. Last I checked, my older sister had all the assets I'd wanted and more. And my brother? Well, I'd like to say I was the brains of the family, but he was always eager to prove me wrong.

"So, where are you manhandling me to?" The creep in question asked as I turned around a corner. I turned my head from side to side, looking for the landmarks I'd familiarized myself with, and headed into a certain direction the moment I did. Flower shops were pretty memorable.

"You don't get to talk until we get there," I told him with as much authority I could muster, still looking straight ahead, and still weaving through crowds of people while maintaining a vice-grip on this guy's arm. I knew that he could easily pry my hand off of him if he tried, though. The muscles I felt while holding his arms were telling enough of his strength. Thankfully, he hadn't tried anything so far. "But I assure you, if you turn out to have a legit reason for doing… _this_ , I'll let you go. So I suggest you pick a god and pray for the meantime."

"Interesting choice of words there," he said anyway. I wanted to elbow him for that, but then I'd be inviting him to hit me back.

So instead, I went the high road and completely ignored him.

Silence thankfully ensued between the two of us as I continued walking. Or at least, as silent as it could be when there's noisy cars, chatty locals and tourists alike, and crying children. The latter ranked the worst. The sun was steadily lowering in the horizon, and that was a silent reminder enough that if I wanted to go to this spot I had in mind, I needed to be there while there was still daylight.

It wasn't exactly the safest… or the cleanest… of places in Ylisstol in general, but well, beggars can't be choosers. This city had a pretty low crime rate from what I've heard, but life in Plegia taught me that I could never be too careful. Especially when I've long since removed myself from the family household.

Eventually, I finally reached my destination: an isolated alleyway that smelled faintly of piss and garbage from the shut dumpsters by the brown brick walls. It was definitely far from the most ideal of locations ever and the buzzing flies didn't help matters, but what I wanted was privacy and I sure as hell wasn't going to invite this guy into my apartment. Walls there were thin, anyway... which made for some pretty awkward nights due to the overly-passionate couple doing the do in the room beside mine.

Gods, that was what I got for being a total cheapskate.

I released my grip on the guy's arm, stepped back, crossed my arms, and looked at him. He didn't run at all.

"This is the place?" The guy asked with a look of doubt on his face as he inspected our surroundings. He was absently rubbing the arm I'd been gripping—I must've done it too tightly.

Suddenly I felt the slightest pang of guilt—wait, no, shut up, Robin. You didn't feel guilty. He was a stalker. And you hit people when they piss you off, anyway.

"Yes, and if you're thinking about objecting, do suggest a better, _private_ location," I said.

"I would, but I'm not from here either," he replied. He made a face as the wind picked up and blew some of the stench towards us. I'll grudgingly admit that I looked disgusted, too. "You've a poor choice in locations."

"Sacrifices must be made for the good of the realm. Deal with it," I snarked. After making sure that the wall was free of any gunk and the ground clean of grime or trash, I turned my back against it and leaned until I was resting on its surface. I crossed my arms. "Now talk. Why were you following me? I'd pegged you as a stalker at first, but you're going against all my stereotypes."

He didn't answer at once.

When I raised my eyebrows and looked at him, he visibly had trouble forming the words in his mouth. His hand kept opening and closing, and he couldn't decide whether he wanted to fold his arms or let them hang by his sides. It was as if he completely forgot what he'd meant to do now that he's come into contact with me.

And somehow, I had this strange feeling that he wasn't struggling to create a lie complicated enough that I wouldn't want to ask any questions. Rather, he was giving me the impression that he wanted to tell me something that I wouldn't normally believe. Like, a logic-defying something.

But that's just stupid. Of course that wasn't the case.

I counted fifteen awkward seconds before he seemed to finally relax. But there was something about the intensity in his amber eyes—as he met my violet ones—that gave me this feeling that I should brace myself for something.

"If you won't mind, please answer this question first: how much do you know about Ylisse?" He began. And noticing my are-you-trying-to-ask-the-obvious kind of expression on my face, he elaborated, "Ancient Ylisse, I mean. From… two thousand years ago. Just humor me."

The historian side of me immediately perked up and took over. Recalling everything I've known, I recited it all.

Two thousand years ago was the time when Ylisse was at war with Plegia. As the history books had said, it was then when then-Exalt Emmeryn sacrificed herself to halt the war between the two nations. It worked, and most Plegian soldiers involved in the war began doubting themselves.

King Gangrel, the man who started that war, was defeated after losing the loyalty of his armies and was beheaded by Chrom as punishment. The war ended, and Chrom had become the Exalt after the accession ceremony. He'd been later advised to find a wife and get an heir post-haste, and some time later, that's exactly what happened.

But then, as I'd found out, the events after that was hard to digest. Data concerning the Valm campaign were vague at best, and it didn't help that there were reports of 'future children' returning to the past to aid their parents. Through some kind of magical portal, no less. _That_ killed some credibility. Okay, a lot of credibility. The world I had now had some pretty logic-defying stuff, but never ones that quite reached time traveler-tier.

Anyway, the information I'd gathered so far from numerous sources only became clear when the real threat emerged: Grima, the Fell Dragon. Long story short, there was an epic fight between Chrom's army and that dragon, and it was with the help of the tactician that Grima was felled for good. As to who that tactician was, the man or woman who had been with Chrom since day one, nobody knew.

I didn't know how it ended, either. Just that Grima was defeated at a great cost.

And that piece of mystery sure as hell was making one portion of my thesis difficult to write. It had been hard enough to find records of events from two thousand years. The data I've gathered in Plegia had been too biased and too in favor of then-King Validar, which was also why I thought of going here.

"That's it, basically," I finished.

Also, that bit of exposition I did there reminded me of just how vastly different the present was as compared to the past. The tall buildings, vehicles, electronics, and everything else were nothing but crazy ideas two thousand years ago. Then again, _I_ thought that the existence of taguels and manaketes were crazy. There was more nature than artificial constructs, and people went from point A to point B by walking. A lot. And there was no electricity to light up a house with, just oil lamps or candles. I had a certain appreciation for the kind of simple life people must have lived then.

And weapons had been more traditional then—except for magic which, like I've said, barely changed. Other than becoming a daily utility for certain activities, _magic_ became some kind of dueling sport between two mages.

"I see. Then you know what needs to be known," the white-haired guy said. "So. What if I told you that time-traveling or world-hopping can be done?"

I immediately snorted. "I know magic is magic, but that's stretching reality."

"I'm dead serious."

"Serious, says he." I snickered. "Oh, gods, are you drunk? Let me guess, you've been 'world-hopping' just to find me and…"

I trailed off the moment I saw the look on his face, my mouth hanging slightly open.

Fun fact: I _never_ normally trail off. But his serious expression and the intense look in his eyes just sent me to an uncharacteristic dead stop. And... the longer he looked at me, the more my stomach was flip-flopping. He had a silent message conveyed in such simple ways, and now I wanted to just skedaddle and forget this day ever happened. I _never_ ran off like a coward, either.

I didn't want to hear what he had to say.

"Robin…" the man began. And now I was having that kind of moment when the temperature around me felt like it dropped a hundred degrees because _gods damn it I never mentioned my name in his presence even once_.

"What?"

Without mercy or reconsideration, he dropped the bomb, just like that.

"You've been gone from your real world long enough. It's time to come back home."

* * *

 **A/N:** And there we have it, folks, the first chapter. I've got _The Right Hand of Light_ (/u/6429146) to thank for the whole future!Ylisse idea and for making the darn bunnies hop in the first place, and... that's about it, honestly. If there's any concerns, corrections, or suggestions, please don't hesitate to post a review. Thank you!


	2. Truths or Lies

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Truths or Lies

* * *

Having lived my entire life in Plegia where superstition was happily embraced, I was no stranger to outlandish claims. However, being told that the world I lived in was never my home to begin with made me feel pretty sure that every piece of bullshit I've ever heard before would never compare to this.

" _Excuse me?_ _"_ The expression on my face was indescribable. I stared at him. He stared back. And several seconds later, I shook my head and took one step back. "On second thought, I'm just going to leave. Peace out."

To think, for a moment there I thought I was about to hear something earth-shattering. He had the seriousness for it. The certainty in his tone of voice, the intensity in his eyes, the _everything_. Yet the moment he finished, the ground barely even cracked.

I turned around and stuffed my hands back into my pockets, wondering what the hell came over me to decide that interrogating the creepy stalker was a good idea. I should've reported him to the police when I could. It was the most sensible action. My curiosity got the best of me and it resulted to _this_.

"Wait!" I heard him call. I've barely made three steps forward before I felt his hand grab my shoulder. Irritated, I turned my head slightly to regard him questioningly. "I'm not joking. I speak only but the truth," he said.

There may or may not be merit to his words. There was still that glaring fact that somehow, _somehow_ , he knew my name without me telling him. And to give credit where it's due, using that knowledge had me falling for his scheme hook, line, and sinker. But I wasn't about to completely believe him just yet.

Yes, even if he didn't seem to display the usual signs a liar had. Even if he managed to maintain eye contact as he spoke to me, didn't trip over his words even once, and spoke with a tone that implied he believed what he really said. Even if he never doubted his words one bit.

Because, hey, with the technology we have these days, there were plenty of ways to find out someone's identity without talking to them. It was easy to accomplish that within the day. So was this guy for real or not?

"Take your hand off my shoulder, and I won't decide to hit you," I calmly warned him. I pulled my hand out of my pocket and raised a clenched fist for emphasis. "I don't really pull a mean left hook, but I'm fairly confident I can break your nose if I tried hard enough."

I was bluffing, more or less. I wasn't really meaning to hit him. I've never really hit anyone in my life… anyone who didn't deserve it, anyway. This guy was barely there, and I wasn't about to risk my personal safety even further. "Only take the plunge if you know you can control what could happen next," as my dad would say. I knew I couldn't control the actions of an unpredictable person, that's for sure.

Fortunately for me, the guy decided to do what I've asked. I didn't realize how firmly he'd grabbed hold of me until I felt my shoulder relax from the pressure. Was I going to get a bruise from that? No, but I was sure that I would if he gripped a lot harder.

"Sorry," he said afterward.

"Apology accepted," I returned. "But honestly, are you for real? This place—this world— _is_ my home. Why would you even think I'm willing to dump everything I have just to end up in a place I wouldn't know, let alone care about? I don't even know you."

"I should have expected you'd say that. But I had to give it a try," the man said. I noted how disappointment he'd sounded just then. In fact, the way he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck nearly had me believing that he was being genuine. But I reminded myself that I shouldn't grow lax just because of that.

A gullible Robin was a bad Robin. There had to be room for doubt.

What was he thinking? Even if he had the proof to back up his claim, I wasn't about to let him take my hand and drag me through some magical portal or something. I had friends and family here. Connections. A life to live and an education to finish. All these were invisible ties that I couldn't just snap off with a pair of scissors. A _life_ —that was what I had here. It wasn't the best of lives a person could have, but it was mine. And to lose all that on a whim? I'd rather shoot myself.

At least the stalker didn't seem to be as stupid as I've thought if he knew that skepticism would meet him soon after he said all of that. Small mercies.

"Yep. Should've known." I nodded. As much as I wanted to see this whole thing through because, technically, I made this whole thing happen in the first place, I thought it was time to put a stop to it. This conversation wasn't going anywhere. "Now if you don't have anything else to say, I've got papers to write, a sandwich to inhale, and a bed to sleep on for an hour or two. Don't bother following me again."

"I..."

The moment I closed my mouth, I could practically see him formulating an alternate plan of action in that head of his. His lips were set in a thin line and, it was hard to explain how I could just tell, but his eyes shifted into a calculating one as he regarded me in a much more different light. There were gears in his mind, shifting continuously as one idea sprang after the next. But if his renewed strategy involved knocking me out and just dragging me with him, I wasn't going to hesitate burning that coat of his with a simple Fire spell before running like hell while he was distracted.

Call it a counter-strategy. _My_ counter-strategy. It certainly worked wonders when some idiot from a few months back tried threatening me with a knife in Plegia. He wanted my stuff. I gave him a fireball.

But instead of anything happening, nothing did. He didn't answer. Didn't even move a muscle. Taking that as my cue to leave, I flashed him an empty, polite smile before turning my head back to face what was in front of me.

I walked away as fast as I could. If he had any objections, I was too far to hear it.

* * *

The next two days were fairly uneventful compared to that strange encounter. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing... that was up in the air right now.

They all happened the same way: I went to sleep at around four in the morning, didn't wake up until nine, and grabbed some breakfast soon after. I returned home to work on my paper a little, writing a section about Chrom's tactician and the strategies they'd made use of during the war, and then I went out for some air and for some sightseeing because gods know when I was going back to this nice, calmer (compared to the chaos that was the Plegian capital) city in the future. I came back to my apartment to work on my thesis some more, went out for dinner, started writing again, and then the cycle repeated.

Today, though, I decided to take a break from the monotony. Instead of visiting the Grand Library located in the upper district, I went for the building that had somehow managed to be maintained for two millenniums.

The National Museum of Ylisse was a lot more beautiful on the inside than it was on the outside, thank goodness. The main hallway was reminiscent of a throne room with large stone columns, dangling chandeliers, and banners hanging from the wall, depicting the Mark of Naga. The flooring was waxed and polished, and there was even a rolled-out carpet stretching towards an immense, wonderful painting at the end of the hall. There were also other corridors to take a turn on to lead myself into another portion of the building.

Gods, I could already imagine how splendid this place must have been in the past.

It was all the more wonderful that today was a weekday and there weren't as many people around. Just some security guards dutifully doing their rounds. The museum had free access to everyone, and to compensate, security was _tight_.

Currently, I was admiring the paintings displayed on the white walls in one of the corridors. Each depicted the previous Exalts, some with their family included, and they all had a certain regal air to them as I gazed upon each one. As I walked down the hall, one painting in particular that grabbed my attention the most. In fact, I got so absorbed taking in all the details that I completely lost awareness of my surroundings.

Each painting had a story behind them. It was fun to imagine what they were.

...Except that might have been my wrongest decision ever.

"Quite the looker, isn't he?"

Instead of surprise, I felt annoyance flare up inside me, hot and searing.

It was _him_. Again.

"I told you to stop following me. Do you need to have your ears checked, or are you just incapable of understanding that you're not wanted?" I quietly said without turning to him. "I should have reported you to the police, after all."

Yep, tooootally should have sicced the police on him.

The previously pleasant expression on my face was gone. I tried focusing on the painting as a distraction. And immediately, I regretted having chosen this painting because _gods_ , Exalt Chrom was indeed handsome. The blue-haired man on the painting had a certain intensity in his eyes as he stared ahead; his skin appeared to be smooth, and somehow the serious expression he wore just made him 'quite the looker' indeed.

The guy or gal who painted it better have a raise, at least. This painting was actually pretty realistic.

"You left before I could say more," the man said, interrupting my thoughts.

"You took too long. My time is not yours to waste." I took a not-so-subtle step away from him as I felt his presence beside me.

His hands were clasped behind him as he also admired the painting. Quite fondly, too, with a small smile smile on his face and a soft gaze in his eyes. Then he exhaled and turned to me. "Look, I know you have little reason to trust me. I know I've been doing a terrible job getting you to listen, and your reaction is just. But all I ask of you is to give me one chance. One chance to explain everything."

I glanced aside him. I placed a hand on my waist. "And what makes you think I won't decide you're insane in the brain?"

"I think I can be quite convincing," he said dryly.

"Convincing, he says. If you can convince a flower to stop blooming, I'll believe you," I shot back in a similar tone. The disbelieving look I finally shot him had him faltering for a moment. Those amber eyes of his could really portray hope really well.

"Just one chance," he repeated. I groaned in resignation

"You know what? Fine. _Fine_. If this gets you off my back after you've finished, then I'll listen. And I pray you maximize the only chance I'm giving you."

"Thank you," was all he said, smiling and practically sagging in relief. Whatever tenseness he had before was now gone. "But we're not talking here. Too many ears. I know a place that's private enough for our needs, though."

"…How am I sure that you're not just leading me to my early grave?"

The man shook his head in mild amusement before turning and gesturing for me to follow with a movement of his hand. "Robin, a little trust goes a long way."

"A little trust is the difference between another day of living and a knife in the back," I returned.

I moved to follow him all the same, wondering the entire time if I was being an idiot by doing this or just being reasonable.

* * *

The man led me through several twists and turns throughout several districts, not with the intent to confuse me, but with the crystal clear intent of ensuring that we weren't being followed. The amount of tall buildings around me thinned the further we went, and soon those structures of steel and glass were all replaced by trees, greenery, and the occasional, poorly-maintained house as he led me to the outskirts of the city. We walked and walked until, finally, we stopped in front of a house with dirty windows, a rusting roof, and walls with yellow, peeling paint. Only the door seemed to be the most decent-looking from the entire package.

I gazed up at the cloudy sky. We must've been moving for like, what, fifteen minutes? Thirty? I didn't have a watch on me. But judging from the position of the sun high above, it was still relatively early in the afternoon.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but your house looks like it's one storm away from being blown off the map," I said as the man stepped up into the porch and took hold of the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door open.

"Thank goodness this isn't my home, then," he said. He waved his hand to the side as his way of beckoning me to come in. Gods, _now_ he chose to act gentlemanly. I rolled my eyes and walked inside. He followed suit, but he left the door open so we had a source of light. It was dark inside.

Then I tried not to sneeze, because everything that still remained in the abandoned house—sofa, small television set, some broken picture frames, and a really dirty kitchen past the staircase leading to the second floor—was coated in a fine layer of dust. I also spotted some cobwebs in the corner of what seemed to be the living room, and I silently prayed to Naga that its inhabitants were out fishing.

I _hated_ spiders. I'd rather wrestle a crocodile than endure those eight-legged freaks crawling up my arm. Why couldn't we just have this talk outside? We were covered by the surrounding trees, and no one as crazy as him would even think of coming here.

The man noticed where I was looking and chuckled softly, the back of his hand covering his mouth. A dirty look from me was all it took to shut him up.

He cleared his throat. "Alright, now that we're here… I suppose that, two days ago, I might have been too desperate to have you coming with me. Of course you'd doubt me. You're a sharp, sensible woman."

Something about the way he talked about me rubbed me the wrong way. While I was stumbling in the dark, he seemed to know me like we've been friends since forever. That was so many levels of wrong. "You speak as if you know me. That is fucking creepy," I said. "Why is that? I don't even know your name."

"It's—" For a moment, he seemed ready to share it. Confident, even. But then a thought seemed to occur to him and he immediately shut his mouth, conflicted. He spoke a second later. "…Raven."

First, he'd been stalking me. And now… this? He was raising enough red flags that I really wondered what was wrong with me and why I was still here.

"That's not your real name," I pointed out.

"It's not," he admitted. Without shame, too. I didn't know whether to appreciate that or otherwise—not a lot of guys could do what he did.

"What could you possibly be hiding that you wouldn't even share your name with the person who has your anonymity—and freedom—on the line?" I asked incredulously.

He shrugged helplessly. "Sorry. It's some really complicated stuff. Believe it or not, I might just make things harder for the both of us. It's safer this way. I know I'm digging myself in a deeper ditch the more disbelieving I'm making you, but there it is."

"Before the day ends, you'll have dug yourself to the other side of the world," I said. But I let it slide, for now. There was something much more important than that right now. Or at least, I hope it was important because I wasn't going to be a nice person when I realize I was being played for a fool. I shook my head. "Also, seriously, let's just do this talk outside. I didn't think this was going to be relevant, but prolonged exposure to dust makes my chest tighten."

Raven looked at the doorway, decided that this place was isolated enough, and nodded. I was never so glad until now to be back out in the open. I took a lungful of fresher air and, after scanning my surroundings, I found a tree I could lean against.

"Anyway," he then began, opting to stand several feet in front of me. "You've mentioned two days ago that Grima had been felled for good."

"I did."

"Unfortunately for the both of us, that's not the case," he said. He actually looked apologetic as he said that, like he'd just admitted that he killed a puppy.

Still. What?

"Don't be silly," I said. "I've read the history books. I've checked the records. Interviewed the experts. They all say the same: Grima didn't live to see the next day after he was struck the killing blow." Three fingers had been raised after I've taken count of my previous activities concerning Ylissean history. "Exalt Chrom and his army became heroes after that whole shindig was over. Then two millenniums of peace passed, and here we are now: in present day Ylisse with all the technological, industrial, and magical advancements made throughout the centuries."

Hell, modern day Ylisse and Plegia was so vastly different to the ancient times that the leaders of both nations actually got along with each other. We've had treaties signed in good faith, action plans made, and even international organizations that monitor everything and enforce the peace. That was how far we've gotten since the days of old. And now this guy was telling me that what I knew was wrong?

"I wish that was the case," he said. At my raised eyebrows, he nodded. "Really, I do. Your historians painted quite the nice picture there."

"And I'll be helping them paint even more pictures someday," I shot back. I wasn't really sure how much that line of work paid, but it was practically a dream job of mine. I didn't know what else I'd want if not that. "Then by all means, tell me _your_ version of the story. Let's see you out-history me."

"That's not a word," he pointed out, but the unamused expression on my face got him back on track. "Two thousand years ago, Exalt Chrom and his allies fought a long, hard battle at the nape of Grima, fighting hordes of undead with the world's safety as the prize. Casualties were suffered on both sides, but eventually, Grima was weakened enough to be struck with the decisive blow. This part is where what you knew and what I knew differed, Robin."

I stared at him inquiringly.

He nodded. "Grima was indeed felled, but not for good."

"That's a load of bull. How does two thousand years of peace pass by without a single peep from our resident Fell Dragon? Hell, how are we still here and having this talk if Grima's still alive?" I'd meant to automatically dismiss him because there was just no way that was the case. I didn't have a case of bad memory, so I was very sure of what I've read and studied. But after sensing the genuineness in his voice… I couldn't help but want to know more. My personal lie detector would have gone haywire if I knew he was fibbing.

…Not that my lie-detecting skills were that impressive.

"Because Grima had only been sealed. Not exterminated," Raven answered calmly, his amber eyes watching my every reaction.

I stared back at him challengingly. "How?"

"I'm sure you know about the Awakening ritual, yes? Where the true power of Falchion is unlocked by Naga and its wielder has a fighting chance against Grima?" At my nod, he continued. "The catch is that the then-called Exalted Falchion cannot truly kill Grima. It can only send the Fell Dragon into a dormant state for one thousand years."

That just opened a new can of worms. I pushed myself away from the tree I was leaning on, stepping closer to Raven. "Then if we're going with your version of Ylissean history, then a millennium ago, Grima should have reawakened. How come history hasn't taken note of that?"

"Because after Exalt Chrom had sealed Grima, everyone had all agreed that they will count the days, months, and years before the Fell Dragon threatens to rise once more. All the while, the Fire Emblem was to be kept in a safe location until it was once more needed. They've taken great strides to ensure that next generation prioritized the Fire Emblem's protection above all else. And the next generation, and the next. No child reached their majority without learning when exactly the sealing happened and when it was going to happen next."

Now that was something I definitely didn't know. I regarded Raven critically, watching out for signs that he was fooling me despite my best efforts to stay alert. He didn't hesitate to meet my stare, steadily maintaining it as he lifted a hand to rub his chin. A small, grim smile stretched on his lips.

Damn. I ignored the way my stomach flipped at my confirmation.

"So you're saying that, what, the Awakening ritual was done exactly a day before Grima's expected resurrection? That the seal was renewed by the descendants of the Exalted line and Grima never had the chance to rise?" I asked.

"Exactly so." He nodded. But then his expression darkened. That somehow reminded me of rainclouds. "But somewhere down the line, something went wrong. I don't quite know how it happened. Or why. But the Fire Emblem went missing. It was never found ever again."

"What."

"It's true. Even the gemstones couldn't be located. At first, those who guarded it were worried and afraid beyond reason. But as decades and centuries passed, the following generations had grown lax and forgot about it entirely."

Floored didn't even begin to describe myself after being dumped on by that kind of information. I couldn't speak at once—I wasn't entirely sure whether to accept this as fact, but… I still couldn't help but think that this was big. Really big, if proved true. But then, wait. Wait a moment. I pinched my arm before I actually started flying into all sorts of assumptions. Pain flared briefly. What he'd said still didn't explain the one thing that still tugged at me.

"How in Naga's name did our historians miss something like that?" That was what I wondered about the most. I didn't hesitate expressing that out the moment I found my voice back.

"Because in the eyes of those not involved in Grima's sealing, the Fell Dragon was gone for good," Raven explained. He didn't even pause to formulate an answer—he just _knew_. "I'd say they thought it was better not to alert the rest of the world. We would have had a thousand years of fear otherwise. "And besides, time has a funny way of warping information. At one period you'll know such-and-such was what happened, but as hundreds of years pass, people start doubting and assume that so-and-so was what really happened. There's also the fact that interpretation varies with each person, and now you have what you have today."

I couldn't fault that reasoning at all. On to my next question, then. I placed a hand on my chest. "Then what's my role in all of this? Why me?"

The half-apologetic and half-hopeful expression that flashed across his features was something that hinted to only bad things. My heart couldn't help but leap at his suddenly intense, amber gaze. And I found that I couldn't move a single step. I couldn't object at how he was invading my personal space as he stepped towards me and placed both hands on my shoulders.

"You're the missing key to Grima's permanent death," he said slowly, each word weighing heavy as gold. "You're a Fellblood."

There was no absolute way this was all real. This was was bullshit of the highest degree.

The man in front of me was a stranger. I had no reason to believe him. For all I knew he was trying to gain my trust, get something from me, and leave me hanging once he got it. He spun that tale to make himself sound believable. Denial coursed through me thickly, and it took nearly everything in me to just quietly say, "Explain."

"Look, I have no idea how it happened. Or who caused this. But you were removed from your original timeline by someone in the belief that your absence would prevent Grima from possessing you and harnessing the power he needed to fully resurrect himself," Raven said. "No Grima vessel, no possession. No possession, no restoration of power." Then he shook his head ruefully. "But as it was made apparent, Grima could resurrect himself just fine. Thus having no one to permanently kill Grima, the only other option in preventing the end of the world was to delay it as far as possible."

"Wait, _what_?" I jerked back from his hold and pushed him away. A part of me thought that would have been enough cause for the man to do something to me, but nothing happened. He just accepted the reaction without complaint. "How does a Fell Dragon self-resurrect?"

That sent the man into a complicated explanation involving alternate timelines, alternate versions of myself, and time-traveling. Long story short, in one timeline, I existed in my original world and everything went smoothly for Team Chrom until the portion where Other Me was successfully possessed by Grima, who was being revived by a cult known as the Grimleal. Grima killed Chrom, and that led to a bad future where the next generation tried to save the world. But then they were failing and Lucina, Chrom's daughter, was aided by Naga in going back to the past to change things as a last ditch attempt at fixing the future.

But then the future, possessed self of my alternate self followed Lucina. But as it turned out, I wasn't there.

"And now we are where we are. That's why you're desperately needed back in your real world," Raven finished. He was breathless by then, having laced his passion in each word he'd expressed. I didn't realize I'd been barely breathing either as I listened, my own breaths coming in and out at faster intervals than what was normal. "You and Grima are linked together through the blood you both share. 'Grima can only be killed by his own hand,' as I've been told. You sever that link yourself, and the dragon dies a full death."

Time felt like it slowed to a stop as I digested those words. The ambient sounds of wind, chirping birds, and rustling leaves muted to the point that all I could hear and feel was the beating of my heart. And at that point, it was as if the world only revolved around me. And him.

"And that's why I'm needed to return and set things straight," I said quietly. In a rare sensation of vulnerability, I wrapped my arms around myself. There was a phrase being repeated inside my head, but I chose not to mind it. "And now the problem is?"

Raven raised his head skyward and then lowered it at his surroundings. But instead of having the pang of nervousness I'd felt, ice cold and forbidding, he looked to be experiencing another emotion entirely. His jaw tightened. His body tensed, and his eyes narrowed. But not at me. Then he shook his head and looked at me once more, visibly forcing himself to relax. This time, I could read a similar state of alarm in his eyes. He'd tried to conceal it, but I've caught the hints.

"Grima will be returning very soon," he said.

Grima. Returning.

I've heard the tales about the dead rising from their graves, taking up arms and killing all those it came across.

I've heard how the earth shook so hard that it had split open and spat liquid fire everywhere.

The cries of the desperate rang in every direction, and only the mercy of death granted them the peace they sought. And most of them? They caused their deaths themselves.

I hadn't really put much stock to those stories, not knowing whether they were just legends or real tales, but the way Raven expressed the news he had been bearing caused my blood to run ice cold. I felt a shiver crawl down my spine. I knew I didn't need a mirror to know that my face had grown pale enough that I resembled a corpse buried six feet below.

As if on cue, I felt something in my right hand stir. It felt burning hot, yet it didn't hurt. I raised my hand and pulled down the sleeve covering it to see a peculiar mark glow briefly before fading into its normal, tattoo-like self, the faint ache fading along with the light. The mark depicted three pairs of eerie-looking eyes, connected to each other by a convex with the bottom ends criss-crossing in a seemingly serpentine fashion.

It was the mark I've had since I was a kid.

I never really gave the thing much thought, honestly, beyond making sure that it was always covered by a glove or by my long sleeved attires. I'd just accepted its existence as normal because it didn't really do anything to me. Well, until now, that is. My parents couldn't even explain why I had it when I'd asked them before. They were equally confused as I had been. But just like me, in the long run they just got used to the sight of it. _Everyone_ got used to it.

"That mark…" Raven said, intently looking at the hand I was staring at. "That's the proof you've been asking for, Robin. That's the Mark of Grima. No one else has it but you."

Suddenly, the world seemed to snap back into focus. And along with it, my mind. Shaking my head furiously, I took a huge step back, pushing my sleeve down until it covered more than half my hand. I then balled my hand into a fist and held it protectively close to my chest with my other hand, warily eyeing the man in front of me.

"There is just no way this is all real," I said slowly. My white-blonde hair swished along with my head as I shook it again. "No way. No absolute way. You're just plain _insane_."

Batty. Irrational. Preposterous. Senseless. The thesaurus had many more other words for it, but the definition remained the same.

I was Robin, a graduating student of Plegia University. Not Grima's vessel, transported into the future in the hopes thwarting the Fell Dragon's schemes.

I had the goal of becoming a historian someday, not the goal of reliving history in the flesh.

Lastly, this world wasn't about to be ended by the revival of a humongous dragon. It was going to be around to see the next couple thousand years and experience all the ups and downs that it came with it. I refused to believe anything else.

This was all too much. I could feel myself snapping; I just wanted to spend this day doing research and writing my thesis, damn it!

"Robin—"

"No more. No more lies. That's enough," I said. I could feel my panic rising. The emotion burned through me, hot and searing. Soon it would leave me a charred mess, and I wouldn't know what to do then. "I don't even know what your role is in the grand scheme of things. I don't know why you know all this, why you express them as absolute fact." I took several more steps back. I almost stumbled as I accidentally stepped on a pebble. "And I don't care to find out. I'm leaving."

The last I saw of Raven was a desperate look on his face and an outstretched hand in my direction as I turned and fled the scene.

I didn't look back.

* * *

Holed up in my apartment at 11:30 pm, back slumped against the door with my knees hugged close to my chest. That was the best way to describe myself after that creepy-as-hell encounter several hours ago.

Having refused to turn the lights on, the small room I inhabited was bathed in moonlight sifting through the single window across me. It wasn't really all that dark tonight, just silent. I could see my neatly made bed right beside the wall to my left, and directly below the window stood a desk with a folded laptop and a couple pencils on top, evidence of my sudden lack of motivation to do anything for the rest of that day.

I sighed, replaying the events earlier. I stared up at the dull ceiling.

Logic would dictate that there was no reason for me to take the words of a stranger at face value. He had really messed me up by following me continuously, and his claims of getting me to come back with him to some other world made zero sense. Especially when he had nothing to convince me with that proclaimed his words as true. He didn't even want to tell me his real name. I refused to acknowledge that the mark on my hand was his "proof." It was just a birthmark, nothing else.

But on the other hand, he knew _my_ name. He knew what the mark on my right hand was, and he spoke about me with so much certainty that I'd just end up wondering if I merely forgot who he was entirely. Then there was also his version of the past events that he narrated, done with so much sureness that it was almost impossible to say that he made all of that on the fly. He spoke of Grima's return with a certain graveness. With dread. And when he reached the part that I was the only person who could stop Grima for good, he was brimming with hope.

A groan escaped my lips and I rubbed my forehead. Which was really the truth? Which was the lie?

I thought I knew myself inside out. I was so sure I did. But after today… after today, I began doubting. I was never admitting this if I ever saw him again.

"Gods damn it, he could go jump a cliff for giving me this dilemma," I muttered. In fact, I'd happily push him off of one.

Just. Screw him. Screw this day. I wish I could just conveniently have amnesia or something. Too bad banging my head on a wall wouldn't do jack.

Stress was the last thing I needed in my life. _This day_ was the last thing I needed in my life and I shouldn't have dragged him off somewhere in the first place let alone _acknowledge him_ —

 _Ow!_ I lost my balance and fell to my side as the earth suddenly started shaking wildly. Without pausing to think, I quickly picked myself up and made a beeline for my desk, crawling on all fours until I stuffed myself underneath it and hoped nothing hard fell down and broke the piece of wood into two. I covered my head with an arm just in case.

Of all days… an earthquake?

It continued on as I remained in my spot. I could hear the couple on the room beside mine shouting frantically as I heard some objects make a crashing sound on their floor. I watched how the pencils on my desk fell down in front of me, rolling back and forth along with the ground. Some books dropped down, flipping open to a random page, and I quickly dove to catch my laptop as it dropped down soon after, resuming my previous position after I patted the thing and made sure it was in a safer spot.

Eventually, the shaking stopped. The night was still and silent once more, and yet…

That was somehow the scariest part of the night. I'm talking horror movie levels of scary here. The suspense was thick in the air.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed as I stayed there, shifting from a doggy position into a more acceptable, upright one. I just heard the seconds tick by on my wristwatch as I stared my shut door, waiting… waiting… For something I didn't even know about. Which was, in retrospect, stupid. This situation I was in had all the makings of a slasher film.

And then I heard something. Something faint, but tremble-inducing. Chills went down my spine.

I slowly crawled out of my hiding place, dashing towards my door and placing an ear on its surface. I could hear something like shuffling footsteps. And a moan? A low, guttural moan that I would usually associate with zombies. It was heading towards my spot, judging from the sound of it.

Wait. I stiffened.

Gods, it was coming this way—

The door suddenly exploded in a shower of wooden splinters.

I was sent flying into the back of the room as I heard the loud, cracking sound. Stars filled my vision as my head crashed against the desk, and a hot, searing pain in my cheeks flared as I fell down to the floor. I felt something trickle down the side of my head.

Moaning softly as I slowly stood to my feet, knees wobbling, I placed a hand at the affected spot. It was wet with something warm. I drew my hand back to see… oh. Blood. Hm. My eyes narrowed and my lips stretched into a thin line as I repeatedly flicked my hand to get rid of the liquid. I was still reeling from what happened, but I thought my mental faculties were still at a good enough condition.

" _Must_ _… kill…_ "

But then something immediately snatched my attention. A sound, harsh and gravelly and so very, very low. I looked up, and I forgot all about my wounds.

A small gasp escaped my lips as I jolted back, feeling my backside hit the desk.

The most I registered were a pair of red, glowing eyes, a rotten-looking face, and a sword before the creature rushed towards me with a roar.

* * *

 **A/N:** For the record, I swear the whole missing Robin thing had been one hell of a headache to arrange into something believable. Took me a good while to organize. So if I missed something, feel free to point it out. I'll do some revising in the future.

That said, this chapter has been fun to write. Robin practically took a life of her own the further in I got. And honestly, I'm looking forward to seeing where I can take this (although I swear I'm going to be on a cliffhanger strike after this - there was no other way I wanted to end this chapter :v). No pressure, no pressure.

As usual, please feel free to review, favorite, or follow this story! Thank you!


	3. Escape

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Escape

* * *

Obviously, when you see a freakish monster running at you with a pointy sword, you do whatever it took _not_ to get sliced and diced. You could jump out of the way, duck into something safe and solid and then run when the blade gets stuck…

Or you could just be a suicidal idiot like me who immediately grabbed a chair and threw it at the monster's face.

The fun part about modern chairs being mostly made of metal meant that the object didn't shatter into splinters the moment it struck the monster. It instead sent Mr. Zombie Face crashing down to the floor due to the heavy weight it didn't anticipate, its sword spinning away from its grasp and landing near the bed with a loud clatter.

My eyes were on the sword the entire time. I quickly dove for the disarmed weapon before anything else happened. I didn't know whether I did that due to the severity of the situation or because I just decided to act on instinct for once, but I only knew one thing: that sword was better off in my inexperienced hands than the monster's murderous ones.

I managed to grasp the hilt just in time before Mr. Zombie Face recovered. I straightened myself up, pulling the sword with me… and, well, the weapon did weigh heavy in my hands, but it was a manageable kind of heavy. Suddenly I wondered if the books or movies were exaggerating the weight of swords. Then I promptly dismissed that question because, Earth to Robin, your life was still in danger. I watched the monster shove the chair aside, stand up, and _still_ appear capable of maiming me without a weapon. I gritted my teeth.

You'd think, hey, this was the best moment to do something heroic. This was the best time to be that badass everyone wanted to be. But then, reality check: the likelihood of me surviving this encounter? Not very good. I wasn't about to take my chances and commit to killing this creature. I was more likely to die making a "brave" attempt at playing hero than making a tactical escape.

So, I ran. I slipped through the huge, gaping hole in the door, sped through the hallways while ignoring the lying, unmoving bodies around me, and felt thankful that I lived on the ground floor as I emerged into the open. There were no doors to block my way.

My plan had been to run to safety, wherever that was. I wasn't supposed to stop until I've found it. But as I took in the sight of all the chaos around me, I found myself unable to move a step further.

It was… how exactly could I just explain it in just a few words? What I saw basically amounted to an apocalypse: buildings, still standing but a good, strong gust away from total collapse. Pillars of smoke rising up into the atmosphere. Fire. Roads cracked and uneven. The sirens of both ambulances and trucks blared everywhere, and I was certain I could hear the loud bangs of gunfire and feel the tingle of offensive magic in the air. And there were people, many of them armed, trying to fight or against the monsters that somehow invaded the city while the civilians were evacuated from the premises. Where did these freaks come from, anyway?

" _Grr…"_

I stiffened. The growl I heard from behind me had me deciding that that question would have to be answered later. Stupid, Robin, stupid. Should've kept running. My knuckles grew white from the tightened hold I had on my sword and I turned slowly, knowing what was to come. A feeling of dread washed over my entire being.

It was the monster from earlier. And judging from the red liquid dripping from its clawed hands… it had just finished a slight diversion.

I swallowed and struggled to maintain composure. I was described as 'unflappable' for a reason. So think. _Think._ Maybe running wasn't the best course of action here. Either I try to fight tooth and nail to get out of this alive, or I run like a headless chicken and attract more of those monsters as I pass by. Yeah… the former was definitely far more appealing than the latter. I could just finish this monster somehow, go find the local task force or something, and then let them take me to safety while they reestablish order. It wasn't a bad plan.

"Fine," I said, decision formed. Fine. This was the kind of crazy shit that's supposed to exist in the movies, not in real life, but fine. I could do this—I'll get hurt, I'll get traumatized, but at least I'll be alive. "You want to dance? Let's—oof!"

I was shoved harshly aside before I could finish my sentence. My vision tilted, shifting from the monster to the cloudy night sky. I felt my sword snatched away from my hands as I fell. Pain flared in my hands when I caught my fall, skin scraping against the rough asphalt, but I ignored it. Right now, I just wanted to level a glare at the rude jerk who happened to be…

…Raven?

I could only stare as the white-haired man held the sword firmly in front of him. He managed to look every inch the warrior he probably was. And when he dashed forward to deliver many brutal slashes, I was nothing short of awed at the skill he'd exhibited as he minced the crap out of Mr. Zombie Face. Definitely a warrior, then. One slash, two slashes, three. The monster's head was then severed from its body in three final slices before it could even do anything. And then it dissolved into purplish dust.

Yes, I kid you not. It really turned into dust—ashes?—before my eyes and was carried away by the wind.

Raven let out an exhale as he lowered his sword arm, eyes shut. Inhale, exhale. When he opened them again, there was a certain intensity in those amber orbs as he started gazing down at my still-sitting form. He stepped close to me, offered a gloved hand, and pulled me up the moment I gave him mine. I felt like a lightweight when he did so with supreme ease.

"You're hurt," he said, referring to the scratches on my face and the cut on the side of my forehead.

"It's nothing fatal. I'll worry all about it later," I replied. My fingertips lightly brushed over the gash and realized that I'd stopped bleeding. That was good. "Nice save, by the way. Thank you for that."

His tense expression softened a bit. He nodded. "You're quite welcome. I'm just glad I managed to find you in time."

"And now you want me to come with you because shit has hit the proverbial fan and you'll take no for an answer?" I supplied for him. For once, I wasn't pissed he was around. It was hard to be when the very person stalking me was the one who'd just saved my life.

But thinking about _why_ he was here and _why_ tonight's main event was actually happening… it opened up a whole new can of worms I didn't have time to completely think about.

"Yes," he answered. "Does this mean you finally believe me?"

"Yes and no. But it's not like I have any other choice now." Right now was not a good time to be difficult. All I could do for now was go with the flow until things calmed down again.

With a slight inclination of my head, I motioned for him to get a move on so I could follow him. He nodded. He pointed to a certain direction, broke into a run, and I followed suit, keeping pace with him the best I could. I didn't even mind that he was holding onto the sword now. It was just going to be a hindrance in my hands now that he was around.

We navigated through the ruined streets filled with cars, rubble from broken structures, and dead bodies. Some which even had a limb or two missing—I tried not to focus on those too much. The ground was very uneven, there were these _huge_ cracks everywhere, and for one moment I was fairly certain I saw the glow of lava flowing somewhere deep within. There was nothing but destruction everywhere I looked. And desperation. Some people we passed by even tried calling our attention for help, maybe for a trapped friend or an injured family close by, maybe for themselves because they could hardly move and death was looming close. I could only assume that the people fighting to reestablish control in the city were spread too thin that they couldn't help everyone.

And as much as we both wanted to, we knew we couldn't just stop running.

Raven had a destination he wanted to reach as soon as possible. And I couldn't lag behind because that could possibly mean not-so-good things for me. It was that fact itself that made me feel uneasy inside as the cries sounded fainter and fainter. Made my stomach twist, but it couldn't be helped. All I could hope for was that they got the rescue they needed before it was too late.

Other than those encounters, things were smooth-sailing for the most part. Certainly wasn't feeling particularly appreciative of Ylisstol's vastness today, though. What more if this happened in Plegia?

…What if this _also_ happened in Plegia?

"Where are we going, anyway?" I asked sometime later, shoving my worries deep, deep down. At this point, my lungs were already tightening from all the running. My heart was beating loudly against my chest, and it took everything in me to keep going. I exercised as much as possible to prevent that from happening too soon, but unfortunately I could only be so healthy.

"To the park. The place where we first saw each other," Raven said. "Hold on." He spotted one of the undead blocking our path in front of us. He immediately went for the offensive and struck a blow before it could fully turn to acknowledge us. There was a brief moment of steel clanging against steel, and seconds later, Raven emerged victorious. We continued running.

"Why there?" I then asked a beat later.

"That's where our portal's located. It's our way out of here," he answered, "and it's our only way of preventing this whole thing from happening again."

For that one moment, my incredulity started rearing its ugly head. Portals. Really. But then I remembered how unbelievable the night had become, and I went on to reinforcing my suspension of disbelief. After tonight, anything was possible. Portals appearing out of nowhere should be the least of my problems.

"So… no pressure," I said in a forced, light tone. "And the events tonight?"

"It is as I've said, Grima has returned. Naga could do nothing against him," Raven said darkly. "And if we could feel his wrath all the way over here when his body should be sealed somewhere in Plegia… you can see how serious a matter this is."

 _No kidding_ , I wanted to say. My defense mechanism was definitely up in arms tonight. _One majorly pissed off Fell Dragon is the one thing this world needed the least._ But when I saw what was in front of us, the words ended up dying in my mouth.

"Shit."

Several pairs of red, glowing eyes. Rotten faces, and equally rotten, yet surprisingly muscular bodies. Weapons, lots of them, glinting under the streetlights. Our path was blocked. And they… they did _not_ look happy to see us. Raven cussed under his breath as he brandished his sword once more. And me, I could only take an uneasy step back as the only capable fighter in my side was the only thing standing between them and me. But those numbers…

Raven was at a tactical disadvantage.

The white-haired man regarded the horde warily, the latter registering the sight of us with their scary, scary eyes. Silence. The tension in the air had increased tenfold. It hung so heavy, I felt like I was about to be choked. "Shit" did not even begin to describe the predicament we'd landed ourselves in.

And then, one by one in a horrifying way, they stirred. A collective howl escaped their rotten lips soon after.

"Run." Raven decided to lower his sword, realizing the same thing I had. A look of genuine fear flashed across his features as he made several steps back, almost bumping against me. "Run!"

Didn't need to tell me twice. I spun on my heel and ran like hell the moment he did. I could hear the monsters' enraged roars from behind as I took the lead and turned sharply on the first corner I saw. Wait… I knew this part of the city!

The road ahead showed more of what we've already seen, but it was mercifully not as cluttered as the others. Thank the gods. Shops with broken windows line one side, and on the other, various restaurants that clearly wouldn't be serving anything tonight. No signs of life anywhere. The authorities must've evacuated everyone from this part of the city already. Anyway, past this avenue would be a labyrinth of twists and turns. It was the portion of the city that had me horribly lost several days ago until someone gave me directions. And a tour.

If my luck would have it, I could lose our pursuers there and emerge in the correct path towards our destination.

"This way," I said to Raven. Without waiting for his response, I made a silent prayer to the gods, pumped more energy into my legs, and sprinted so fast my parents would have been found.

I didn't really know what was up with the person who planned the city layout and why they thought this kind of twisty-turny fiasco would be okay. But right now, I didn't care. I was too busy being thankful this existed because it was apparently good for something, after all (in fact… why hadn't I thought of _this_ when Raven was nothing but a creepy stalker?). I took a right when the familiar house with the funky color scheme came into view, ran straight when I saw a small salon that offered ridiculous prices for haircuts, turned left after passing by a police outpost, then right, left, right, and on and on until the sounds of footsteps faded behind us.

But, gods, they were a persistent lot. Even if looking over my shoulder revealed nothing, I knew they weren't too far behind. I could hear their bone-chilling roars.

And Raven, bless him, found a good spot for us to hide in for the meantime. He pulled me into a house that showed all the signs of hasty evacuation: open front door, half-closed cabinets or drawers, and clutter on the floor. After making sure that nothing was going to come jumping out at us from within, we slammed the door shut, barricaded it with a table, and slumped down by the nearby wall to take a breather. Collapsed, in my case. The gasps of breath that escaped our lips were the only noises we heard as we got our breathing back in order and our bodies rested.

We could hear the enraged sounds of the monsters coming closer, but for now… we were safe.

"This night," I said in a very, very soft voice. I was leaning against Raven for support; every part of my body felt like it had melted into jelly. He didn't mind in the least. He was equally exhausted as I was. "Is so messed up, I have no words."

"Agreed." Raven nodded. "Fortunately for us, we're not very far from our destination now."

"…You've been in this part of the city before." I shook my head. "Wait, I shouldn't have been surprised."

"That was you being surprised? It sounds more like you already knew beforehand," he responded in a light tone. Lightening the atmosphere, no doubt. At the tired, but still pointed glare I shot him, he was quick to backtrack. "Still, that was a smart move you did back there. You handle pressure well."

"Barely." I moved away from the man, wiping the sweat off my forehead with my torn sleeve. "But now what? We're essentially trapped here until those freaks have finally gone off to some other part of Ylisstol. We need to get to our destination."

He lowered his head. From what I could see in the darkness of the night, his eyes were seemingly narrowed in deep thought. "There _are_ too many of them for me to handle… and you can't exactly fight, can you?"

"I can cast spells, if that helps," I informed him. Focusing on my magic resources inside me, I tapped into them, concentrated on getting the energy flowing into my hand, and managed to produce a small ball of flame over a hand I spread open. The tingling sensation I felt in my fingertips was something I'd long grown used to. When I closed my hand, the flames were dispelled and with it, the faint source of light I'd provided. Raven's eyes were on me the entire time. "But without anything to amplify it tenfold, the most I can do right now are party tricks."

"Like a tome?"

"Rather old-fashioned, but yes," I said.

Magic tomes that enabled mages to perform destructive spells had long since been phased out by the onset of better tools to be used for. Even then, a person these days couldn't exactly cast magic all willy-nilly without some sort of license. There had been too many incidents in the past that resulted to destruction of property or forfeiture of lives due to mishandled spellcasting. It had gotten so bad that the government finally decided to intervene. Or at least, that was the case back in Plegia because a good portion of its population had magic in their blood.

"And can you use one?" Raven proceeded to ask.

"I think so. Application would probably be different, but I think the theory involving the usage of one is the same," I said. At least, if the books I've read on the topic were of any indication. That one I decided not to voice out loud.

Before I knew it, a thick, rather worn book was dropped into my lap. Blinking at this _and_ the energy I could feel emanating from it, I moved my head to stare at Raven.

"I couldn't just carry a sword around the city, as I've been made aware when I first got here. It's not a fond memory," Raven said with a hint of a wry smile. "So I had that on my person instead. I couldn't pull it out quickly enough to save you earlier, so I apologize for the brash treatment I gave you in exchange for your sword."

"Apology accepted. But how did this even pass inspection?"

"I have my ways." Ways that, no doubt, he wasn't going to share with me. I stared at him, he smiled mysteriously, and I decided to let go of the topic.

"Fine, problem solved. But again, now what? Unless we can funnel them in a narrow alleyway or something, we're sitting ducks here—at least for now," I said. "Also, I don't even want to begin asking about your 'portal' once this is all out of the way."

"I suppose that means you're not wholly on board with what I'm planning?"

"Refer to my earlier 'not like I've got a choice but to believe' comment before we did all that running." I said. I stood up, walked towards the window, and carefully peered at the street in front of me to assess our situation. Still the same, ruined street that was hardly any different from the other parts of the city, earthquakes and all. I could see no signs of the animated dead anywhere, but my ears still managed to pick up the sounds they made. "And once I manage to cross through and get sent to the past—unbelievable as _that_ still sounds—what then? How in Naga's name do I even salvage this particular future from the end of the world?"

For once, it seemed that Raven hadn't thought that far. Momentarily, he was at a loss for words. But then he shook his head. "One problem at a time, I suppose. What do you say to dealing with our current problem before we deal with the next one?"

There had to be a solution of sorts because every problem had one, but… he had a point. I nodded grudgingly and backed away from the window. "Alright, I can take that. Once we're there, though, _you_ _'re_ helping me out. You got me involved me in this."

He grinned. "That's why I'm here."

I walked back to him and held out my hand for a shake. Realizing what I wanted him to do, Raven chuckled in amusement before pulling himself up and firmly grabbing my hand. We shook on it.

"Why is that, anyway?" I said after we pulled apart. "Who _are_ you?"

Oh, yes, just go Mr. Mysterious on me just like that. I crossed my arms. Seriously, after all that had been happening tonight, I could use a bit more honesty. Especially from someone who suddenly shifted from stalker to some weird kind of mentor. I was rolling with all these twists life was throwing at me like frag grenades the best I could, but some things I just could _not_ stand not knowing.

"Someone with a mission, someone who wants to help set things right. I've only got one shot at this, and I intend not to make any more mistakes," Raven answered. He smiled at me apologetically. "Forgive me for the lack of a straight answer. I'll tell you the truth someday, I promise. But right now… we really have more pressing matters."

I stared at him long and hard before shaking my head and looking away with a sigh. Part of me really wanted to just trust him and be done with it, dealing with the consequences later, but a part of me was still too cautious for its own good. But then the former won over the latter. It wasn't sensible, but nothing tonight was. "Oh, fine. Judging from the lack of any noise now, I think we can finally move on from here."

It was true. The night was silent once more—at least for this part of Ylisstol. If I listened hard enough, though, I could make out the sounds of sirens continuously blaring from afar. Must've been difficult navigation for vehicles with the ruined roads and all. No wonder most people opted to abandon their cars in the middle of the road.

Raven strained his ears to listen for what was lacking, and he nodded in agreement. Reaching for the sword he'd laid down on the floor, he grasped it firmly as I pulled the table away from the door and slowly swung the thing open. And, fingers figuratively crossed, I grabbed onto the frame for support and popped my head out.

Nothing.

I pulled back and turned my head to Raven. "We're clear."

He moved past me, and took the lead once more.

"Then let's get going. The sooner we're out of here, the better."

* * *

Raven and I were careful to navigate around the remaining distance left before our destination. Despite aching legs and feet, we moved as quietly and as cautiously as we could, ears sharp, eyes even sharper. We must've been walking for around fifteen minutes when we finally emerged from an alley and into what I knew was the central area of the city, the fenced park making up a good part of it. And it was just as abandoned as all the other parts of the city that we've passed through.

We entered through the creaking gates and turned towards the general direction where the Naga statue would be located. As we walked, I didn't realize until now how eerie this place was without the usual signs of life it exhibited during the day. The swings on the playground nearby absently swung from the light breeze that blew by. There was an abandoned backpack by the seesaw, and on another part of the park, there were a few upturned benches and trash bins. I decided not to follow the trail of blood I'd spotted heading away from a duck-less pond. This place was deader than dead.

It was horrifying how in such a small amount of time that this city had shifted from peaceful to chaotic. I suddenly worried about my family back at home. Were they alright? Safe?

"They'll be okay," Raven said from beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. The corners of his lips quired in reassurance when I curiously turned to him. He must've noticed the concerned look on my face as I tried to soldier on. "And once we fix this issue once and for all, doubly so."

Friggin' 'destined to save the world' crap that suddenly was pushed on me. But I was sinking deeper into the game now. No more backing out.

"I hope it's occurred to you that I'm leaving everything behind for the sake of a better future, cheesy as that sounds," I said in a quiet tone. I casually shrugged off his hand on me. "I'm not going to lie. This is the biggest sacrifice I'm making for something I'm not so sure about. It's ballsy. Very ballsy, and very not me."

"But you're doing it, anyway, and I'm very grateful for that."

"So you say." I left it at that.

Silence once again ensued as we crossed the remaining distance left. Minutes later, we were finally standing in front the statue—right at the spot where I'd first realized that someone had been watching me. Did I just go full circle? It seemed like it.

"Ah, yes, this is the place. I can feel the power in the air," Raven said, nodding to himself. He circled the place, found an appropriate spot, and stood still. "Now, then. Moving on… Naga, we're here."

I was pretty sure that, at that very moment, my suspension of disbelief was being harshly challenged once more. What was happening in front of me was something I'd thought only possible in books, in fiction. I mean, sure, I've read of this happening in the legends, but I'd dismissed that as a more fantastical version of the past events when the other historians had made far more sensible records.

Before the two of us materialized a being that was semi-corporeal, and as it was made more apparent, feminine in physical appearance. Long, green hair, and pointed ears, a gentle face with eyes filled with love, and a long, flowing dress. The exact copy of the statue right beside Raven and I.

Naga.

"We do not have much time," the Divine Dragon said. Her voice had a certain echo to it. Faint as her current form but still dripping with immense power—that was one way to put it. "And so, I will be brief. Hear me: the world, as you know it, stands in the brink of demise. Grima has risen. However, while I do not possess the power to destroy him, this resurrection may yet be prevented." She looked over to me with a meaningful, knowing stare.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but _he_ _'s_ already told me the gist of it," I said, pointing to the white-haired man. Raven actually _stared_ at me with jaw-dropping shock. Was he expecting me to, what, just stand there and listen until Naga— _an actual deity_ _—_ finished? I thought the situation too dire that I cut right to the chase. "No need to explain. The more time saved, the better, yes?"

Let it be known that even a divine being like Naga had the capacity to smile a dry one. I was impressed. "Very well, then. But realize this: once you are sent back to that moment in time, you must not fail at all costs. To do so would only ensure this world's plunge into chaos. And soon after, into oblivion."

My heart was rapidly beating as everything I was supposed to be doing sank in, but I managed to nod all the same. I was never going to be sure _how_ I'll even do something so… impossible, but if it meant my home surviving to see a better future? What other choice did I have? "Got it."

"Then I wish you the greatest of luck, child. Your road ahead will be a difficult one, Fellblood." With one last, encouraging smile directed at me, Naga faded into nothingness.

But just as quickly as she disappeared, a shimmering portal came to be in her place, shining white and wide and looking more like a large, complex, magical rune full of lines and shapes. It wasn't a huge, gaping hole of nothingness I'd been expecting. A huge, gaping holes with maybe stars to make it look nicer. But I could feel the magic singing, feel its power wash over me. This was the real deal. I shivered when I tried dipping a finger into it; the portal actually felt pretty ticklish.

Okay, I could do this. Cross the portal, get into the past, and… profit? No, not yet. But just before I could muster the courage to step into something that would lead me to a total unknown, things suddenly went down south.

" _Rrraaagh…!"_

I whirled around and felt the temperature drop by several degrees as I realized that we were suddenly surrounded. They just appeared out of thin air—no, not out of thin air. They were magically summoned from a rune that appeared and soon faded on the ground. And the monsters, they looked every inch the kind of things that should only linger in a nightmare.

"They can't follow you through the portal," Raven said, brandishing his sword and standing by me protectively. There was nothing but seriousness on his face now as he regarded the monsters around us. Monsters that were one sudden movement away from ripping us to shreds. He gripped his sword so hard, I knew the knuckles hidden by his gloves had turned bone white.

I slowly registered the words he'd said into my mind.

Then it hit me like a truck.

"You idiot. You're not thinking of—" I said, but he cut me off.

"It's the only way to make sure you don't die the moment you've landed somewhere else." He smiled thinly and glanced at me from aside. "Heroic ends do seem to fit me better, don't you think?"

"There's always a plan C," I told him. He shook his head.

"Not this time, no."

"But you've just agreed to—"

"Robin. I know what I've said. But sometimes, deviations happen. Now, I won't hear any more of this," Raven said. "You best get a move on. Don't waste your only weapon on this encounter."

Now I just wanted to smack his tome across his face because it made apparent that it wasn't seeing any use tonight. But…

"Ugh. I'll wait for you on the other side, no matter what you say." I turned to move towards the portal, suddenly feeling ill at what I was about to do. I felt sick to my stomach; despite having eaten nothing this evening, I wanted to throw up. Funny how that worked, me wanting to vomit over the responsibility I suddenly had than all the carnage I've seen earlier.

My movement was apparently all it took before the monsters regained their senses and started running at us with enraged roars. The sudden noise was enough to make me freeze in shock. And after noticing this, Raven shut his eyes and let out the deepest sigh I'd ever heard from a person.

Time seemed to slow the moment he did so. Raven opened his eyes. Frowned as he quickly glanced at the charging undead. Then, he turned to me. A thousand thoughts seemed to flicker across his eyes as he considered my still frame. I could only stare back. And after coming to a decision, he stepped towards me, and…

"Sorry."

And he shoved me into the portal.

The last thing I saw before everything faded into black was a grimly-smiling Raven, the man who turned to face the monsters that would surely haunt my dreams.

* * *

 **A/N:** Okaaaaay, not much to say about this chapter, but I sure as hell am glad that I can finally get on to the next portion now. Is that the last of Raven? Maybe, maybe not. You'll just have to see.

Thank you so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I know I tend to be busy at times and completely forget to reply to reviews, but I'm glad to hear from you all. I hope this chapter is to everyone's satisfaction!


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